


Fox Mulder’s Wristwatch

by Slipped_Mickey



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: F/M, fox mulder's wristwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slipped_Mickey/pseuds/Slipped_Mickey
Summary: If some women were addicted to shoes, Mulder had tended a veritable fetish for wristwatches.





	Fox Mulder’s Wristwatch

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by the video/tumblr blog of the same name, http://foxmulderswristwatch.com.

April 2008

“Hey Scully, have you seen my stopwatch?” Mulder belted as he barreled down the stairs, dressed in running shorts and a faded navy T-shirt that read “Mr. Stadium Coin Laundry—Ann Arbor’s Most Famous Laundromat Since 1972.”

Scully glanced up from her perch on the couch, puzzling at the shirt for a second before discarding her curiosity. It didn’t matter that Mulder hadn’t been to that Laundromat or even the state of Michigan anytime in the recent past. He always managed to unearth the unlikeliest of treasures, and his wardrobe was certainly no exception. Asking wasn’t worth risking having to listen to some strange, roundabout story about how he’d met the owner once. Not when she was just trying to finish some patient notes on her laptop so she could have a few hours to relax on a Sunday evening.

“I haven’t,” she responded. “I’m assuming it’s wherever you tossed it the last time you came back from running, which, if experience has taught me anything, could be anywhere. Have you checked in the fridge, maybe?”

“Har dee har har, Scully,” he said. “What kind of wife are you? You’re supposed to take my things from me and have a cold drink waiting when I get back from a run.”

“The kind who doesn’t wear a ring and is not legally bound to you, Mulder,” she shot back, with an arched eyebrow and a slight smile. They had broached the subject of marriage a few times in the months since the FBI finalized his exoneration after the Monica Bannan case. It had never been an option before, and now, after so many years together, they weren’t exactly sure what to make of it. But they had been sneaking jokes about the topic into more conversations, perhaps as a way to test the waters.

“Touché,” he murmured, leaning over her behind the couch to give her a peck on the corner of her mouth. “Does that mean if I get you a big rock I can expect you to morph into a desperate housewife?”

“In your dreams, Mulder,” she responded, giving his Sunday stubble a pat before turning back to her computer.

“Ah well, I guess it’s for the best. No woman could domesticate me.”

Scully snorted at that while Mulder sifted through a pile of magazines on the side table, looking for the missing stopwatch. While running was hardly a new development, the stopwatch was. Mulder had started timing his runs in the last few weeks and was pushing himself harder to get back to a 6-minute mile, something he hadn’t accomplished since his early 30s, at least. Scully suspected it had to do with the possibility of him taking on some work for the FBI, which Skinner had surreptitiously mentioned after the dust had settled around Mulder’s exoneration.

They hadn’t discussed it, exactly, but Mulder knew she hated the idea of him delving headfirst back into a life of monsters and misery. It had nearly been their undoing during the Bannan case, and they were still trying to recover from the ruptures in their relationship that episode had wrought. But Scully also knew that keeping Mulder from pursuing his passion was akin to letting him wither away, and she was trying to come around to the idea of finding some sort of compromise that suited them.

“A ha! Here it is,” he said triumphantly, unearthing the dollar-store stopwatch from a under a package of sunflower seeds. He bounced up on his heels and threw the cheap vinyl cord around his neck like some kind of junior high gym coach. It was a strange sight—in the past, Mulder had always had a bevy of fancy sports watches to keep time for him, but since busting out of prison six years ago, he had abandoned many expensive habits, including that one.

“Mulder, where is your knee brace? You shouldn’t push yourself too hard. You’re not in your 20s anymore,” Scully chided him, noticing his bare legs. While Mulder had managed to stay in good shape well into his 40s—something Scully approved of quite a bit behind their closed bedroom door—his knees had suffered from years of abuse, and pain would flare up if he wasn’t careful.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ve been feeling good lately,” he replied, re-tying his shoelace before heading out the door. “But I appreciate your concern, dear,” he added with a smirk.

“Oh, stop it. All I know is you turn into a whiny child when that knee starts to bother you, and I’ll be stuck going up and down the stairs to fetch you everything while you stew about it,” she replied.

“Oh, you love my stewing,” he said amicably, jumping back up. “I’ll be back in a bit. What do you want to do for dinner?”

“I got some steaks yesterday from the store, and I’ve been marinating them. I was thinking we’d grill out on the porch now that spring is finally peeking out from somewhere,” she said.

“Dana Scully!” he gasped, clutching his heart in mock horror. “You are actually cooking—and red meat, at that? For me? Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

She smiled at that and rolled her eyes. “Just go, Mulder. I may be cooking tonight, but I’m a modern woman. You’re the one who’s gonna do the dishes.”

*****  
Scully puttered around the kitchen, trimming some asparagus and wrapping two Idaho potatoes in foil to go with the steaks. It was pleasant work, and her mind drifted to Mulder as she cooked. She liked seeing this invigorated side of him, something that, if she was honest, hadn’t been around for a while. The fact that his newfound vim came from the prospect of jumping into some unsolved case or crime wasn’t lost on her. It scared her, but it excited her, too. After all, it was that headstrong and unrelenting man she fell in love with.

She marveled at how much Mulder had changed in the years since they started working together. Life on the run and in a relationship had mellowed him considerably. She did appreciate that about him. He was certainly more considerate now, more patient with her, allowing her to have her silences instead of always trying to trample them with his own thoughts. He often pulled a random and sweetly romantic gesture out of his hat, for no reason at all. Like when he’d call her at the hospital just to tell her he missed her, and that he’d recorded a fascinating medical mystery show on the Discovery Channel for her. Or how he’d greet her with a drink at the door after a long shift and offer to rub her aching shoulders.

His comment about him becoming domesticated had been an ironic one—if anything, Mulder had, perhaps out of necessity, become something of a talented domestic engineer himself. He had taught himself how to cook, quite well, actually, and there was always fresh laundry when she came home on Fridays. He still wasn’t much for cleaning, but she didn’t mind.

But so many of the things that made him the cocky young agent he’d once been were gone. He’d traded his suits for jeans and flannels, and she thought again about all the fancy watches he had amassed over the years that were no longer part of his daily repertoire.

If some women were addicted to shoes, Mulder had tended a veritable fetish for wristwatches. Scully remembered how he would often sport a new watch every month, if not every few weeks. She called him on it once, and he was a bit embarrassed at first at how she recognized the indulgence but then just shrugged about it.

“I like watches, Scully. My dad was really into them, so I guess I got into them, too. There’s so many cool ones. They sort of make me feel like, like...James Bond,” he admitted sheepishly, ducking his eyes. Then, defensive: “And it’s not like I spend a lot of money on other stuff.” It was true; Mulder lived a fairly frugal life other than the cash he dropped on custom-tailored suits and the occasional expensive jaunt to Antarctica.

So she just smiled and didn’t say much—except for the occasional “Nice watch, 007”—whenever she noticed a new timepiece on his tanned, toned forearm. He was a true connoisseur; he owned everything from a functional Timex Ironman to a pricey Omega chronograph that must have set him back more than a thousand bucks. It’s almost as if he got bored with them and needed to trade out his wrist-wear on a regular basis.

And even though he was a confirmed slob in most respects, his watches had curried special favor. She remembered one night at his apartment, during the very early stage of their physical relationship, when he had shyly asked her to stay the night after some Thai take-out and a Maryland basketball game on TV. She’d protested at first, just out of form, arguing she hadn’t brought anything to sleep in.

“Like you’re gonna need that, Scully,” he had teased and grinned. She had blushed furiously, because the whole thing was still so new and a little bit awkward. At that, he cleared his throat and said, “Just grab one of my T-shirts, OK?” on his way to the bathroom.

So she’d pulled open his bureau drawer in search of some makeshift pajamas, but had apparently gotten into the wrong one. In the drawer were rows of neatly lined up cubic leather boxes with words like Tag Heuer and Omega printed on them. There had to be at least 40 of them in there. She noticed the brands were in alphabetical order. And, next to one box, was a leather case she opened to discover was a watch repair and cleaning kit. Those watches were his babies, and he treated them well.

Scully smiled at the memory and became a bit sad at the thought of how he didn’t own even one watch now. Once, when they were out on a rare shopping trip shortly after they had settled into their unremarkable little farmhouse, Scully asked if he wanted to get a new one.

“Nah,” he replied. “What do I need a watch for? I never go anywhere. Waste of money.”

She hadn’t pressed it, though in her head she was thinking how, even though it wasn’t a necessity, it might be nice to indulge in something that reminded them of who they once were.

Scully was broken from her reverie as Mulder jogged into the kitchen, sweat dripping from his face. “I still got it, Scully,” he announced. “That was a great run. I’m almost back to my old time.”

“My hero,” she said drily, though her eyes were smiling. He strode over to her and put his arms around her waist, nibbling her neck a little.

“Mulder, you’re soaking!” she shrieked, though she didn’t pull away. “And you’ve smelled better.”

“Mmm, woman. That’s just my manly man scent, and you know you can’t get enough of it,” he growled, pulling her into a kiss. “I see that you have been slaving away for me here in the kitchen, and I very much approve. I’m starving.”

“Well, if you want something to eat, go out and light the grill,” she responded after returning the kiss, pulling away a bit to take the steaks out of the refrigerator.

“That’s not what I’m hungry for,” he retorted, but trotted out to the porch nonetheless.

*****  
The sound of a phone ringing jolted Scully out of a dream she’d been having about Mulder’s watches, in which he was whiningly asking her why she’d lost all of them. She opened one eye to look over at the clock next to the bed. 6:07 a.m. She didn’t need to be at work until 9 a.m. that day, and she cursed under her breath at the rude and much-too-early awakening. She had no idea who could be calling at this hour, and it filled her with panic for a moment. Behind her, Mulder snored on, oblivious to the phone that trilled again for the fourth time.

“Hello?” she answered in a sleep-roughened voice.

“Scu—er, Dana. Sorry to call you so early,” a familiar voice said. “It’s Walter Skinner.”

“Sir? Is everything alright?” Scully asked, while Mulder stirred slightly after Scully sat up in bed.

“Yes, everything’s fine…well, sort of. I was wondering if I could talk to Mulder?”

“What’s going on, sir?” Scully was now on full alert, and she wasn’t about to hand the phone over to Mulder until she had a better idea of what was going on.

Skinner sighed. “There’s a case we’re working on, a serial case. It got…it got a little bit crazy over the weekend, and we’re at our wit’s end. That’s when one of my agents pointed out that it had some similarities to a case Mulder worked back in ’88, ’89. We’re wondering if there’s any connection, maybe some kind of anniversary thing. I want to get some profiling insight from Mulder. We're racing the clock, here.”

“I see," Scully responded, resigned. She knew that something like this was going to eventually land in their laps, ever since Skinner had broached the subject back in February. She just wished it hadn’t come quite so soon. She reached over to Mulder and gently scratched his neck.

“Mulder,” she said in a low tone. “You have a phone call.”

“Mmadghlkj,” Mulder mumbled, burrowing further into the covers.

“Mulder, it’s Skinner.”

At that, he opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep from them, giving her a puzzled look and accepting the phone from her.

“Hey, Walter. To what do I owe the pleasure at…6:09 on a Monday morning?”

Scully decided to get out of bed and start her morning routine. All chances of catching anymore sleep were lost. She tried to feign disinterest in the conversation Mulder was having, but didn’t do a very good job of it.

Mulder was nodding and responding with phrases like “Yeah, I remember,” and “What do you have so far? How many victims?” He paused during what Scully assumed was a debriefing by the now Deputy Director.

“So what do you need me to do?” asked Mulder.

“Yeah, okay,” he said after a minute. “Hey, listen, can I call you back in a few? I just…I just need some time and I’ll let you know what I can do.” He paused again. “Okay, I’ll call you back.”

“What’s going on?” Scully asked, without preamble.

“There’s this guy who is going around abducting young women and the occasional little boy. It’s a confusing pattern. And he’s leaving something from his last victim’s clothing at the site where he takes each new victim. Last night, they found a bunch of the bodies in Maryland. It’s a lot like a case I worked way back when in VCU. Skinner wants me to lend a hand, see if I can look at the evidence and maybe help flesh out the profile.”

“I see,” was all Scully said, again.

“Look, Scully, I know we haven’t talked about it, but I know you’re not thrilled with the idea of me going back to this stuff,” he said. “And if you say the word, I won’t do it. I know what I’d choose if it means our life or the work. I’m just…I’m just hoping I don’t have to.”

Scully studied him. The truth was, Mulder’s talents could save lives. She just didn’t want it to happen at the expense of his own. And she was so afraid of what would happen to him—to them—if he made traveling down this road a part of their life again.

But Scully had also had time to reflect on things since the Bannan case. The fact was, she couldn’t live without Mulder even if she wanted to. He was a part of her, and her threats about leaving had been mostly empty ones, even if she hadn’t known it at the time. And, she had to remember, trouble found them, whether they liked it or not, as Mulder had so astutely pointed out.

“No, Mulder. I…I think you should help,” she said in a soft voice. “I just, I just want you to be careful. Try to retain some distance. I don’t want it to swallow you…to swallow us.”

“I know, Scully. I know. Thank you. I’ll do my best…and I’ll keep you posted,” he replied, reaching over to smooth her hair from her face. “And you know the Skinman will do his damndest to keep me out of trouble.”

She smiled slightly, but took on a more stern voice when she asked, “And no field work, right, Mulder? This is just profiling? I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be going off half-cocked in the field right now.”

“Scully! I thought you knew by now I’m hardly half-cocked!” he responded, trying to charm her with his typical brand of slightly off-color humor. She only rolled her eyes, so he added, “Nah, I’m sure I’ll be stuck in an office with a bunch of upstarts half my age. It’ll be okay.”

Famous last words, she thought, but let it drop. You can’t keep him locked up forever, Dana. He’ll be fine.

*****

When Scully pulled up in front of the house that evening after working an exhausting double shift, she was surprised to see Mulder’s recently purchased Honda not there. It was after 10 p.m., and they hadn’t talked since noon, when he’d called her at lunch to let her know he’d made it up to D.C.

Scully walked into the darkened house, flipping on light switches and looking for any sign that Mulder had been there. Maybe he just went out to grab some food after a long day, she thought to herself, knowing full well that wasn’t the case.

She poked her head into his office, which was unchanged from the last time she saw it. She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring blankly at the contents of the fridge, hoping something appetizing would materialize. It did not.

Finally, she picked up the phone and called Mulder’s new cell. It went immediately to voicemail. “Dammit,” she muttered. “And this is only day one.”

Bone-tired, Scully trudged up the stairs to take a hot shower and try to keep the worst thoughts at bay.

She was emerging from the bathroom clad only in a thick white towel when she literally bumped into Mulder who was sporting a dazed look.

“Hey,” he said blankly, not even attempting to leer or offer a patented Mulder-remark on her state of undress.

“Mulder,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the irritation out of her voice, even as she hated herself for it. “Where have you been? It’s 11 o’clock! I called your cell, but it went to voicemail.”

“Huh? Oh, well, I guess I lost track of time. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. My phone battery died…it seems like these stupid phones only stay charged for a few hours, now. Anyway, Skinner offered to get me a hotel, but I didn’t have anything with me and I guess I just wanted to come home anyway…to you,” he said softly. “This case…it’s a mess, Scully. There are 11 victims so far. And none of it makes any damn sense.”

She softened a bit at that, noticing that he looked more haggard than his normal self. “Have you eaten anything today, Mulder?”

“Um, well, yeah. We had bagels this morning, remember? And there’s been no shortage of Bureau coffee. I can’t believe we drank that swill for years, Scully.”

“Mulder, if you’re going to do this, you need to take care of yourself. You’re a lot older now, and I’d rather not have you pass out from hypoglycemia in the middle of a profile,” she said, but her tone was soft and sympathetic. “Come on, Iet me put on some pajamas and then I’ll make you a sandwich, and you can tell me a little about it.”

“Wow, two dinners prepared by Dr. Scully in a row?” he mused. “Thanks, Doc. What did I do to deserve you?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself, Mulder,” she joked, and he chuckled, taking her hand.

“Some things are better left unexplained, Scully.”

******

The next two weeks seemed to follow the same pattern, more or less. Mulder got increasingly wrapped up in the work, coming home late, ignoring his basic needs and just generally obsessing over the case. He spared Scully most of the gory details, which she wasn’t sure she preferred or not, but she could tell that the crimes were wearing on him, especially as more victims piled up.

Still, he did try to make an effort to not be complete basketcase about the whole thing. One night, after a particularly trying few days when he’d stayed in the city, he came home with some profiteroles from Scully’s favorite bakery in Georgetown, sort of as a peace offering.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you today,” he said sheepishly. “But look what I brought,” he sing-songed, dangling the bag in front of her.

Scully sighed. “Mulder, it’s not that I need you to check in with me all the time. I just want you to take care of yourself. But yes, I’ll take those,” she said, reaching for the pastries.

Scully, for her part, was trying to tamp down the feelings of frustration and dread that kept creeping up as she saw Mulder spiral into obsession. It didn’t always work. One morning, before she left for the hospital, she snapped at Mulder when he refused to eat some toast she had buttered. “Fine, just starve yourself, then. Maybe leave your phone here while you’re at it, so then I’ll have a really great day.” She cringed as soon as the words came out of her mouth. 

“Whoa, Scully, OK,” he said. “I’m sorry. Look, eating toast, OK? Listen, we’re really close to closing this thing, I know it. And I know I’ve been a real jackass these last couple of weeks, but I’m doing my best, Scully, really.” He reached for her, not wanting to separate for the day with a fight.

Scully sighed and brought her face close to his, touching his forehead with hers. “I know, Mulder. I didn’t mean to snap. I want to be supportive, I do…It’s just, this is what I didn’t want to happen.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not quite as bad as back in the day, huh? I haven’t lost my marbles yet,” he said. “And…Scully, you have no idea what it means to come home to you at night, and just have your faith and support and comfort for a few hours before having to do it all over again. It's almost as good as having you next to me in the field, poking holes in all my theories. And hey, the good news is, when I’m done, we can take that beach vacation we talked about. What do you say?”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Sure, Mulder,” she said. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll see you tonight.”

He was trying to keep it together, and she had to give him a little credit. On her way home from work that night, she stopped to pick something up to show him that she did.

Of course, he wasn’t home when she got there. By now, Scully was used to it, but she didn't like it. Her earlier feelings of generosity were quickly dying down, when the phone rang. 

"Dana, it's me," said Skinner from the other end of the line. 

Scully felt a sinking feeling in the pit if her stomach. "Sir, what's wrong?"

"Mulder is on his way home right now. He's a little banged up, which is why I wanted to call you first," he said. 

"What do you mean, banged up? What happened?"

"Mulder was following a lead on the case today. He went to the home of a potential witness to interview him. When he got there, he happened to notice a distinctive piece of jewelry one of the latest victims had been wearing when she disappeared. That's when he put it together that the witness was actually the killer himself."

"Oh my god," Scully whispered. "What the hell was he doing in the field, Skinner? What happened? He didn't have any backup...he doesn't even carry a weapon anymore!"

"I know, Scully. Look, we didn't think this would happen. He insisted he would be fine handling the interview in his own. In retrospect, I think Mulder may have suspected. You know how he is. But, to make a long story short, he's alright. They got into an altercation and Mulder has some injuries, but he was able to call for backup. We got to him in time," said Skinner.

"Dammit, I can't believe this, Walter! He could have been killed!" shouted Scully, pinching her nose. 

"Dana, listen. I know you haven't been thrilled about Mulder working this case, getting back into this business," said Skinner. "But I have no doubt Mulder saved a lot of lives today. No one else could have broken this. And, if it makes you feel better, until today he'd been sticking to the rules pretty closely. He said, and I quote, he didn't want to let you down."

There was a pause on the line when Scully didn't say anything.

"So just...give him a bit of a break, okay?" Skinner continued. "He did good work."

Scully swallowed a lump in her throat. "Thanks for calling, sir," she said, before hanging up. 

An hour later, she heard the slam of Mulder's car door. A few minutes later, he entered the house, sporting a black eye and a limp. He saw Scully on the couch and didn't quite meet her eyes as he said, "Hey Scully. I've got good news and bad news."

"Mulder!" Scully said, jumping to her feet and reaching for him. "God, look at you! Are you alright? Skinner said you were banged up but this...you look awful."

"You talked to Skinner? Well you know the good news then. The case is over and we caught the guy. Bad news: I did not break my usual MO of escaping without getting a royal beatdown."

"Oh, Mulder. Skinner said you went there without backup...and he suspects you knew what you were getting into," Scully admonished, gently touching his face. 

"I wasn't sure, Scully. I really didn't think this was going to happen. I... I wouldn't do that to you again."

Scully sighed at that and led him into the kitchen.. "Let me get you some ice. What happened to your leg? You're limping."

"Well let's just say I won't be needing my stopwatch on runs for a while," he responded, wincing a bit.

They settled back on the couch in the living room as Mulder filled her in on the details of what had happened. When he was done, he looked at her and said, "So, what's my punishment? I know I haven't exactly been a prize these last few weeks."

"Oh, Mulder. There's no punishment," Scully replied. "But I did get you something."

"What, another ass-kicking?" he wise cracked. 

"Not exactly. I'll be right back." She left the room and returned carrying a small box in her hand. "I thought… I thought if you're going to be doing more work like this, you'll need one of these." She handed him the box. 

"Scully, what...?" said Mulder as he fingered the lettering on the case, which read "Tissot."

"Just open it." 

He lifted the lid to uncover a beautiful silver Tissot chronograph with a sleek black face. It was stunning. Mulder turned the steel timepiece over in his hands a few times, chewing his lip. It felt heavy and rich; as a former connoisseur, he could tell it cost a lot. But it didn’t matter. She could have gotten him a Timex and he still would have felt the same way, overcome with emotion. 

It was more than just a gift, and he knew it. Scully was telling him something. She was saying that it was okay, okay for him to regain some of the parts of himself that he’d long buried.

He looked down again at the watch, and then back at his partner, his face shining full of unspoken love. He know he wasn’t going to trade this one in for a long time to come.


End file.
